Grave Visions(87)

“He wants you alive,” she said, her smile fading. “I don’t see why. But how much more air do you have? Maybe you accidentally drown while I subdue you.” She pressed a long-fingered hand over her chest. “There was just nothing poor Jenny could do.” She laughed again.

Crap. I had to do something. Fast.

I dropped my shields, looking around. There were dead things aplenty on the bottom of the pond—I could feel their picked-over bones—but thankfully none were human. Unfortunately, deer and hog shades weren’t going to do a lot to prevent me from drowning. I glanced at the seaweed holding me, hoping against hope it was simply a glamour I could disbelieve away.

It wasn’t.

The seaweed was not only real, but alive, so I couldn’t drag it over to the land of the dead and rot it away. Damn. A bubble of exhausted air slipped from between my lips. I needed oxygen, and soon.

Jenny watched me, giggling with delight as I struggled in vain.

I considered trying to pull raw Aetheric energy and shape it into something useful. A fireball to burn away the seaweed? Underwater—would that even work? Or maybe a pocket of clean air around me. But even if I knew how to form those kinds of spells, which I didn’t, whatever or wherever this pond was, it didn’t exist completely in the mortal realm because I could see only the thinnest strands of Aetheric energy.

More expended air escaped my now-tingling lips.

No, I wouldn’t die like this. I wouldn’t.

But I was out of time. My body took an involuntary breath of water.

The water felt heavy and thick as it rushed into my lungs. Pain spread across my chest and my thrashing turned from struggles to escape into spasms.

Jenny clapped her hands. “Oh, this is my favorite part.”

My body heaved, trying to expel the water, but there was nothing but more water to take its place. The pain in my chest was unbearable, but my arms felt numb, heavy. My legs too.

I heard a splash from somewhere in the distance, and a loud, echoing boom. Then there was only darkness.





Chapter 24





The darkness parted to more pain. I coughed up water. Then blessed, cool air rushed into my lungs.

I had less than a moment to savor the sensation before a spasm hit my body and I heaved, hacking up more water. Tears filled my eyes, and I realized I hadn’t opened them yet. I coughed and sputtered a moment more before forcing my eyelids to peel back.

Falin knelt over me, one hand still in the center of my chest, and desperation written across his face. I tried to tell him I was all right, but I couldn’t stop coughing. My throat was raw, my chest on fire, but my lungs kept attempting to expel every last drop of pond muck.

Falin helped roll me to my side, one of his hands keeping my head tilted back so my airway remained open, the other rubbing my back. I coughed some more, my whole body shaking. Sucking in a deep breath, I focused on holding it a heartbeat before letting it explode back out of my lungs. Then two heartbeats.

After what felt like an eternity, I caught enough of my breath to speak.

“Jenny?” The name emerged as a croak, the effort making my aching throat burn worse.

“I shot her, but she got away,” Falin said and I realized the dark object lying in the muck inches from my nose was the butt of Falin’s gun.

And speaking of muck, I was ready to be out of it.

“Help me up,” I said, struggling to sit.

Falin slid his hands under my armpits and pulled me to my feet, but he didn’t stop there. Once I was standing, his arms slid around me and he tugged me against his chest in a tight embrace. I was still shaking, my breath trembling out in wheezing gusts. Add to that the fact that my dip in the pond had chilled me, the October breeze sliding through my wet clothes, and I was more than happy to lean against Falin’s warm chest, at least for a moment. I let my exhausted body enjoy the comfort of his strong arms, and maybe, just for a heartbeat, reminisced about the night we’d shared months ago, before everything got so complicated.

But it was complicated, and I couldn’t let myself forget that Falin was a danger to more than just my emotions.

Lifting my arms, I pushed against his chest. He didn’t release me. His arms protectively encircled me in an embrace gentle but unbreakable. I craned my head back, torquing my shoulders. Only then did I catch sight of the figure behind him.

If the figure had been Jenny Greenteeth or Tommy Rawhead with a weapon, we would have both been dead. Or maybe not. Maybe if the figure existed on the same plane of existence as Falin, the knight would have heard him and would have been armed and in a defensive position in a matter of heartbeats. But this figure wasn’t someone Falin could sense, let alone fight.

Because behind Falin, stood Death.